


ein-gad nash-gad

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:50:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In his career and life, Spock of Vulcan has solved and revealed many mysteries. The heart and mind of his eldest daughter, however, remains stubbornly elusive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ein-gad nash-gad

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/profile)[**where_no_woman**](http://community.livejournal.com/where_no_woman/) prompt "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life...these pages must show", title loosely translated (thank you VLD) is "someday's today" as in "some day I hope you grow up to have a child just like you" which is the phrase from which Soleta was sprung. (Although she shares a name with the Peter David character, there is no relation between the two)

It is difficult, bordering on unbelievable, that she should be here.

Soleta tips her head back, looking at the sky overhead, and is most assured of its nonexistence. Or, rather, she believes it would be altogether preferable were this the case and that, at any moment, she might utter the words, "Computer, end program." and find herself in the ship's holodeck.

Not standing on an alien world that is, now, supposed to be home, held prisoner by time and choice alike. The choice, of course, being her own.

If one could call it a choice. She knows what her godfather's response would be to such a comment. "No goddamn choice at all. Not that he bothered thinking about that when he went charging off to save the universe again."

She cannot fault her father his choice. In his shoes, she could not leave a civilization to die. Indeed, the loss of Romulus had been accepted by few. In her absence the effort to redress it had begun in earnest.

Nero might well have murdered a world to defend a loss already undone. A situation oft found in the province of madmen.

She does not sigh, but if she were wholly human, she might.

"This world is an excellent choice," she states into the night, her words meant for the man behind her. She does not comment on the optimal conditions for colonization. Spock would have, obviously, been aware of said conditions when he made the selection.

Her father has been standing there for some time, saying nothing, but the weight of his regard sits solidly on her shoulders nonetheless. In his career and life, Spock of Vulcan has solved and revealed many mysteries. The heart and mind of his eldest daughter, however, remains stubbornly elusive.

Soleta, daughter of Spock and Saavik, granddaughter of Sarek and Amanda, great-granddaughter of Skon and T'Vei, has always been her father's child. Fitting then, that of her siblings, she is the one to find herself here with him.

"It is agreeable," he says, voice quiet, "to see you again, Soleta."

She has always been her father's child, but it has not been easy. While Starfleet's taste for nostalgia might have made career advancement difficult, it is not to that which she now refers.

"Yes," she says, without turning, "I might say the same."

Might. Her choice of words is anything but accidental and, to this, Spock sighs.

"There is a human expression -- "

"Uttered by exasperated parents when dealing with their offspring, supposedly cursing them to, one day, raise a child as equally troublesome as the child in question," Soleta nods, finishing the sentence. "Uncle Leonard informed me of it."

He did so in the course of a discussion of yet another disagreement between father and daughter. McCoy had listened to her detailed reconstruction of the argument and snorted. "That's not the point," he'd drawled. "You're your father all over again, Soleta, and you're just as goddamn bullheaded as he is."

He'd grinned at that, thoroughly pleased by the idea.

Soleta imagines that he might find this situation particularly gratifying, were it not for the fact to accomplish it, his goddaughter stranded herself in an alternate timeline. Forever cutting herself off from him.

"Indeed," Spock says. "It is from him that I first heard it."

She is unsurprised. Many of the unfortunate Terran idioms her father is aware of likely had their genesis with both her godfathers. Her gaze drifts up again, to the stars, at the thought of Leonard McCoy. She pictures the old man of her childhood, then permits herself to imagine the other, younger version of whom she has only yet caught a glimpse.

It is unexpectedly difficult, troubling in a way she dare not analyze, and she finds she is reluctant to make further attempts.

His father moves, closing the physical distance between them.

The personal, however, she is uncertain can ever be removed.

"As agreeable as it is," her father says, continuing as if she has not spoken, "I find that it pains me to see you here. Your choice is ill-advised."

"No," she replies, "it is not." She turns her head, looking up at him, "The decision to seek you out was not one easily made, however there was no refusing it. Mother would have attempted this whether I agreed or not." Her siblings would have been willing to make the journey, but her career choices, as they say, sealed the deal. "I would not permit her to attempt this alone." She casts a glance back toward the small building in which they discovered her father. Her mother's form stands in the doorway, backlit by the light, and Soleta finds she cannot regret her choice.

"Also," she says, finally setting eyes on him, "there is the matter of unresolved issues." If she is capable of regret, then this would be why. While it has never been easy to be her father's daughter, the greatest difficulties lay not in Starfleet or Vulcan society, but within their own home.

Spock's eyebrow sweeps upward, faint irony colouring his expression. "You wish to address them now?" His shoulders straighten and his posture draw tight.

It could be called painfully familiar if Soleta were given to such fanciful descriptors.

Perhaps, irrespective of Vulcan propriety, it is anyway. No matter the situation, they always seem to find themselves in this situation. Staring at each other across a ideological impasse.

Indeed, it is painfully familiar and, quite likely ironic as well. She has come to end a separation, not open one anew.

She shakes her head. "No." The greatest of their disagreements has always resolved around his mission of reuniting the Vulcan and Romulan races. They have discussed it, repeatedly and at length, but found no resolution. Her opinion remains unchanged. Spock's logic on the matter was, and is, clouded by the Romulan ancestry that is his children's heritage.

Soleta has always been aware that, were she not the daughter of a legend, her Romulan heritage would make her the target of suspicion and bigotry within Starfleet and the Federation.

Whether or not her father's opinion remains unchanged is unknown to her. She will not ask. Ask means revisiting a debate that, for now, has remained dormant. Soleta is not eager to resurrect it anew. Instead, she considers the matter at hand and faces her father with nothing less than the truth.

She breathes deep. "I -- " her voice fails. How illogical that a daughter cannot find words to admit something so simple.

Her father's hands land on her shoulders, jolting her from her silence, and she looks up into eyes that are, for the first time in many decades, unguarded.

"Yes," he says, "I as well."

It is enough.


End file.
